An Unusual Situation

The advance

Before I begin, I just want to make a shout out to  @naomie_2000  

  !!!! Thank's so much for the support on this story!!!!

John woke pleasantly to warm rays of morning light trickling through the half open blinds to rest on his eyelids. He'd been so focused on Sherlock, he'd forgotten that he, himself, required sleep to function. It took him a whole of five seconds to realize he'd never put Sherlock to bed, and another three to realize Sherlock wasn't in is lap anymore.

"Sherlock..." He muttered sleepily, pulling himself out of the strange position he'd gotten himself into. Sherlock had probably woken up and gone downstairs to visit his mind palace. He wasn't worried. Not at all.

"Sherlock! Where have you gone off too?" It took a few seconds for John's legs to get used to standing up, but after a few seconds of staggering stupidly in his room, he took for the hallway, making his way downstairs.

He could faintly recall the events of the night before, but remembering Sherlock's irritation for his de-aging, he wasn't surprised to find a flowery note written in cursive on the fridge that read, "Gone out with Sherlock to catch some bad guys. There's some food in the fridge, dear. Love, Ms. Hudson <3"

Cursing under his breath, John snatched a stray jacket-not even checking to see if it was his-and reached for the door handle, nearly jumping out of his skin as he was greeted by two familiar faces.

"Ludovic, Lucy! What on earth are you doing-" John shut the door behind him, regretfully irritated at the fact that they both seemed so cheerful.

"Morning, John! I was wondering, do you have any milk I could borrow? You see, I'm out and I remember you talking about milk and Sherlock, so I supposed-"

"Not now, Ludovic," John muttered, brushing past them to call a cab. His eyes, though still weighed down from waking up, were in stark focus, and the northern morning breeze that rippled across his body didn't seem to affect him.

Ludovic quickly fell in step with John as he began verbally abusing every cab that passed him by, "Why are you in such a hurry, John? What's wrong? If your going out to get milk, that's very kind, but unneeded, I can get it myself! I promise!"

"I'm not getting milk, you git!" John took a deep breath, meeting the pudgy man's eyes, "Sorry. Sherlock's ran off with Ms. Hudson and I'm afraid they'll do something stupid if I don't get there in time."

"Oh crumpets. I'll come with you." He said automatically, his expression twisting into something strange for a brief moment, before flashing away and into concern.

Any other time, John would have told Ludovic he was fine, thank you very much. But not in the mood to argue, he simply gave a stiff nod before seating himself in a cab that'd pulled up.

After entering the cab, John waited for it to speed away. When it didn't, he leaned forward, tapping on the glass, "Oi! What's the matter with you, go!"

"I would, but you haven't told me where I'm going." The cab responded darkly, sounding as if he'd woken up without his first cup of coffee and been forced into running a marathon.

John felt his ears redden, "Oh. Yes. Right." That was a good point, where was he going? He had no idea where Sherlock had gone.

"Shirland Road," Lucy leaned forward, loud whispering it into the cabbies ear.

John glanced at her, confusion laced in his brow, "How'd you know that?"

"He's been waiting for this." Was all she said, before looking out of the window and singing an Elton John song underneath her breath.

As the driver shrugged, muttering "Weird kid," before pulling out and taking off down the street, Ludovic took John's arm, "John, I don't know if we should trust her. She's been talking about Jamen all night, and I don't think-"

"It's fine, if worse comes to worse, I've got my gun," John interrupted, sliding his arm out of Ludovic's reach, "Besides, if that's where Sherlock's gone, there's no way I won't be there."

...

"Ms. Hudson, you're being too loud!"

"I'm sorry, dear! It's been a few years since I've sneaked into any buildings illegally. Are you sure you don't want me to carry you some more? I just love children, Sh-"

"Ms. Hudson, in the kindest way I am physically able, I'm asking you to shut up." Sherlock grumbled, accidentally tripping over himself clumsily as he inched his way down the dark, deserted corridor. Not only was he mad that he had barely been able to reach the door knob, but he was also angry that his mind was beginning to fade. He didn't have long until the parasite took over his mind. He had to act fast.

Leaning up on his tip toes, he signaled Ms. Hudson to stay still before whispering, "Give it here,"

"Right." Ms. Hudson reached into her flowery blouse pockets, retrieving two weapons. A machete and a small hand gun.

Handing Sherlock the small gun and keeping the machete for herself, she leaned down to Sherlock's ear and loud whispered, "What is the plan? How many are we going to take out?"

"I'll take the two men facing the entrance, you take out the one keeping watch. Only draw blood if absolutely necessary." Sherlock replied, his heart beginning to quicken excitedly as it usually did when he was going to do something reckless or dangerous.

The light above them flickered as they inched towards the sound of talking. Sherlock knew for certain that the two men facing the door were very closely associated, if he could get one of them hostage, the other would likely surrender. The guard-who likely had never even done as much as shake ones hand out of friendliness-would be the only problem, which was why he was letting Ms. Hudson take care of him. If he could get the guards to buzz them through, it would give them enough time to slip through the-

"MYCROFT, PISS OFF." Sherlock hissed-louder then he intended too-as his mobile rang and Mycroft's goldfish like face appeared. Why in the world was he calling him?

After quickly ending the call and stuffing the phone into his pocket, he felt Ms. Hudson's arm's snatch his shoulders protectively. He was about to remind her of his dislike of touching people when he realized there were three shadowy figures standing about three yards ahead of them, with guns pointed right at them.

"I've got this, Sherlock," Ms. Hudson whispered as the men began to advanced, "I'll put these nasty little young punks into their place! I'll call their mom if it comes to it! You hear that? I'LL CALL YOUR MOTHERS!"